#msiadler

“The trouble with a disguise, I suppose.” Enola allowed herself a smile. “One always has to have inspiration from somewhere.” Mycroft’s mannerisms came easily to her because she’d spent years in observation in her childhood. But this woman, who had no discernible ties to her family that she could name, could tell from a moment’s glance - either she worked for Mycroft, or she’d been in the presence of the man recently for some other reason. 

Both options put Enola on her guard, but she was cautious to make a judgment. Needed more data. ”Mycroft doesn’t talk about me. Must’ve been Sherlock. So, you’ve met both of them? Not many people can say that, Miss...?”

Rosie woke up hearing someone shuffling around in the apartment, she wondered if her dad was back from work or if Sherlock had actually gotten out of his mind palace and was up to something. Rosie had a cold that day and so she had stayed home from school, Sherlock was supposed to be babysitting but now she wondered if he had found a case which would usually mean he found a substitute sitter at the last minute.

Rosie wrapped her favorite blanket around her shoulders and slowly poked her head out of her room to see the unfamiliar woman, definitely a substitute sitter.

@msiadler asked :  ❅ — for a sleepy kiss

-------- send a symbol for my muse to kiss yours || Accepting

It must have been just before dawn when Molly felt Irene shift in bed next to her, waking up to get ready for the day she supposed. In flashes of semi-consciousness, Molly watched her slip on her robe, heard the roar of the shower, and then suddenly there was a dip in the mattress, a press of warm lips to her cheek. 

With the sluggish move of her hand, Molly cupped Irene’s cheek and pulled her lips to her own. If she were quite honest, the gentle beams of morning light were so caustic to her eyes that she dared not open them, but the warmth of Irene’s lips against her own was all she would need to drift back to sleep.

Send 📱 for five texts my muse didn't send yours, and one that they did

[Text to: 9012IA] I know that you’re contacting Sherlock.

[Text to: 9012IA] He’s never going to love you. I hope you know that.

[Text to: 9012IA] I still don’t understand the point in handcuffs?

[Text to: 9012IA] Why do you even do this? Power without a point does not make sense.

[Text to: 9012IA] You need to back off. Poking your nose where it does not belong is only going to get you hurt.

“Sherlock’s?” Irene mused softly. She had been there a few hours ago. Leaving a present for him, before texting him about it. “I’m glad it’s only from the cold.” Tonight she would die. Tonight her lips would turn blue for another reason than the crisp winter air.

Or at least that would be what all her official papers would state. She had passed her phone along to Sherlock to make sure that he knew better. A way to ensure that one day she might return. “You can have mine. I won’t need it, my car will be here soon.”

❛   -- Er, yes. Sherlock. ❜ She glances once more that the woman, unsure. ❛  The detective.  ❜ Must be a fan of John’s blog, or just anyone that read the papers. She had this habit of talking  aloud, rambling too much. One of these days it was going to get her in trouble. ❛  -- I left in a sort of hurry.   ❜ And she had liked that coat, too. Now she was never going to get it back. 

@msialder